


To tell my loved ones we won despite our hearts that ache

by RionaHGoch



Series: To tell my loved ones the war is over [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Because I hate that plot, But it is slow, Canon Compliant, Dialogue Heavy, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Marriage Proposal, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-War, Quidditch, Some Humor, it does have a plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RionaHGoch/pseuds/RionaHGoch
Summary: All wars signify the failure of conflict resolution mechanisms, and they need post-war rebuilding of faith, trust and confidence.Let your pain be soothed, let your world be healed. Let the victors fall into the embrace of peace, and from there shall be born the leaders of this generation. The war is over in the wizarding world, but it was not created from nothing. This is not a story with an end, but an story with several steps.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I'm going all canon. This story is supposedly a tale of the post war in the wizarding world. Voldemort has just been defeated, and Harry is a hero. I plan to follow through weddings, children and more. This won't be a story without drama. But it will be kind of without end.

It was a scene of hopeful glances hidden by saddened lips. The scenery was a destroyed school, in which all of them had been taught that impetuous art that had the power create and end in the same league. Inside of it, where the bodies of children and adults, light and dark alike.  And the corpse of Voldemort.

The cheer of the morning after had soon died out in facing their losses, and the crumbles of Hogwarts.

After returning from Dumbledore’s tomb, he had been taken by Ginny, that fiery tempest of a woman, and dragged to somewhere. He could barely make a thought of the actions, but soon he was shoved down into a bed, and her hands pried his shirt of his chest with a ferocity and a knowledge of his body that had been acquired in a lifetime ago. He had not been aroused, simply because of the situation they found themselves, but he didn’t think she was either, for after trailing his chest with butterfly kisses, she laid her head upon his heart – her arms around his torso, her entangled in his, listening to his heartbeat.

“You are alive.” She whispered, and then her anguished cry broke out, a storm of sorrow and loss.

Harry also cried, his hands caressing that mane of flaming red hair. He cried for Remus and Tonks, and their son Teddy, another orphan of war. He cried for Fred, and for George, bound into living a life without his other half. For Snape, so lost in the past and his regrets, constantly haunted by errors in his solitude standing. For Colin, eager and brave, fascinated by the wizarding world, in which he was only able to live in for five years. For Lavander, silly and lively, a young girl that had been such a constant presence in his life, just like those fifty others that had once walked among these corridors. But in truth, he cried most for the living, whom had known all those souls and would be haunted by them until they met again in afterlife.

He knew deep inside that in the Muggle World, yesterday would not have been called a battle, and certainly not the end of a war. Yet, in the Wizarding World, so small yet so enchanting, each loss was felt heavy for all. The dead were not unknown faces – they were magical beings, part of the meagre population of UK which had been gifted with magical. A classmate, or a customer in your shop – a face that you had seen in Diagon Alley or King’s Cross.

The wizard didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Ginny would sometimes stop, tired of her tears, and play with the hair in his chest or her nails, and then she would sob again, frantic seeking for solace. Harry didn’t know what to say for the girl who had lost her brother. He was strangely honoured by the fact she had chosen him to mourn. She had a family – people who could understand her loss more easily, yet there had been no hesitation in her actions. For a moment, he felt tempted to tell her. About afterlife, about King’s Cross. But he didn’t think it would help: she seemed to be just as anguished by the thought of death, and maybe the living weren’t supposed to know about it. To not fear death was a maddening thing, and perhaps in fear it was that one could find reason to live fully.

“Is it silly of me? To cry this much?” Ginny had mumbled hoarsely against his skin, probably around sunset. 

‘I don’t think so.Why would it be?”

“Well, you are not crying anymore.”

“That’s because of you.”

“How so? Am I crying for both of us?”

“No, you are giving me a place to be, a role. And it’s beautiful.” He said, smirking slightly into her hair. She pinched his nipple slightly, asking him to continue. “As a container for you tears.”

She gave him a shadow of a smirk, and Harry felt proud of himself for eliciting that reaction. Suddenly, she played with the waist of his pants. “Up to grief sex?”

“I’m quite tired, you know, there was a battle, I think.” He answered teasingly, even though he could feel his cock stir with the idea, Ginny could feel it too, for this time she smirked fully.

“Thank Merlin for our teenaged bodies, then.” She said, at the very same moment she unzipped his pants.

“I don’t think an old dead wizard with saggy balls has anything to do with this.” He continued, helping her to take of her shirt and bra.

She had a wonderful body, freckles and tanned skin. It had changed slightly from last year, her Quidditch muscles slightly overlooked and her duelling muscles overworked. There was a whole new pack of scars, which he supposed that came from leading a resistance inside your school, and her nails were in shambles, abused by her bites. He had changed too – eight months on the run weren’t exactly a fattening period, and there were some new scars as well. Ginny was slightly fascinated by Nagini’s bite on his forearm, and she took a whole minute inspecting it. His hair had been cut by Hermione, meanwhile hers hadn’t been cut at all since he last saw her: it was reaching her arse, and what a fascinating arse it was.

The sex was slow and tired, very different from their usual. They were chasing pleasure to blunt the grief for a moment, to feel only physically and blind emotionally. Ginny rode his manhood carefully, enjoying the centring feeling of cock inside her, while he allowed himself to be lost in her warmth. It was a strange situation; the love they felt so deeply was so entangled into the sorrow of losing someone that feeling was not an option, only fucking. After their orgasms all they were left was with those feelings, and a sense of familiarity and solace. Despite of all, they were home.

“I can’t believe I’m alive.” He whispered, and that was true: he had been prepared to die, and he had died. Yet there was he again. Was all of this a dream? Perhaps the Wizarding World had never existed and he was still a boy living in the cupboard, whose real parents had been drunkards in a car accident.

“I thought I had lost you too.” But no, he couldn’t think like that, could he? That would be a blasphemy to all his loved ones, to all of those that had died for him, to all of those that were still alive. If that was dream, God never let him be awake again.

“I’m here. Always.” That reminded him of his mother: the only real memory he had of her would be post-mortem, but that was alright. He tried a phrase that was too emotional for him, but felt right at the moment: “We never leave, you know?”

Ginny nuzzled his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, a mattress for her body, and they felt into a land of dreamless sleep.

 

He woke up in the middle of the night, a nightmare he couldn’t remember sending shivers into his body. He sat at end of the bed, and for the first time he looked around. They were at the Gryffindor tower, first-year boys’ room. That was probably the first time anyone had sex there, huh. Harry could hear voices spelling somewhere around. Yes, there was a castle to rebuild, bodies to bury, Death Eaters to hunt. Many had escaped after Voldemort’s defeat. He felt a moment of guilt for neglecting all of that, but then he felt arms wrapping around his neck, and legs around his waist. A kiss on his nape.

“I thought you were tired.” Ginny said.

“I thought too. But I can’t sleep.”

“Come to bed would be useless, I guess.”

“There’s much to be done.”

“And only one wizard can do it? You know that it is not true.” She argued and then sighed, untangling herself from him. “Well, I suppose I should do something as well. Mum must be looking for me, even though she ought to know where I am, she must be…tired. You will need help?”

“It’s ok. I’m going to see Teddy first; I think I should be the one to tell Andromeda. Then I am going to talk with Ron and Hermione. And then with Kingsley, I should speak with him too.”

They parted their ways soon after that, a brief hug before following their directions. As Harry roamed around the crumbled corridors, he could see that he wasn’t the only one awake at the hour: the castle was packed by lone wanderers with cups of coffee or tea, spelling shambles into walls and cleaning debris. He didn’t think he would be very good at either, so he only passed by those, a pat in the back or a hug in some cases. He could feel the glances thrown his back, but he couldn’t muster any discomfort with those, as he was worried over the more terrifying task of informing a mother he barely knew of her daughter and son-in-law’s passing.

Walking outside the rebuilt wards, he apparated outside of the Tonks home, an cottage in Winkfield. Andromeda must have seen him at the gate, for she was at the doorstep in a moment. She was a lovely woman in her forties or fifties, fashionable in a very muggle-styling, whose corpse he could very much imagine thanks to the image he had of her sister’s corpse. “Harry, is it true? The Potterwatch...”

He didn’t have to tell her, then. That wasn’t exactly relieving. Harry only nodded in response, and she stopped dead in her feet at the middle of her garden, her worried expression changing into one of devastation. Her expression shifted once again when he tried to approach her – to comfort in some way that woman who was so alone in the world, so alike him – she seemed suspicious now, apphrensive.

“Tell me something only I would know.” She ordered in a moment, imperious even among tears, her wand pointed at him.

_“And that’s my wife you are shouting at_.” He said, because those were the only words he could remember from their first and only encounter. She looked even more unsettled by the memory of her husband, but she let him come to her. It was weird, to hug a woman that you barely knew, but he did anyway. They had a child to take care now, they were bound to become acquaintances. He would be a godfather to Teddy, one that wasn’t unable to act by his wrongful imprisonment. He would never allow Teddy to forget his parents, that he had a family.

Andromeda accepted his shoulder, but her cries were brief and resolute, cut short by the cry of a new-born baby coming from inside the house. She smiled to him them, her face red but ready. “That would be your godson, would you like to meet him?”

He was very tiny, Teddy. Not even a month but already orphaned, his hair was now in a tone of pale and delicate blue, as if he knew the news the day before had brought. It was Harry’s first time seeing such a young baby, and it was incredible that such a creature could exist, delicate and perfect, and that he would one day grow into a real wizard. Andromeda was very careful with him, giving him warm milk and rocking his bundle softly.

“It’s an incredible world, isn’t it? Of life and death. Of victory and defeat. Of hope accompanied by sorrow.” She pronounced. “He has been missing his parents for a day by now. It’s not very fair, but I suppose it is what it is. We will raise him, and Teddy will be a wonderful man that makes his parents proud even from afterlife. It’s the only thing I can do for my family. Would you like to hold him?”

Harry hesitated, but Andromeda wasn’t likely to hear no from him. She put her grandson in his godfather’s arms and for once, Harry was able to forget everything with that light height against his skin. “Hello Teddy. I’m Harry. I knew both of your parents, and I loved them so much. They loved you so much.” He looked at Andromeda’s beseeching eyes for a moment, then faced again the baby in his arms. “I had a stone that allows you to speak with those that have passed. I spoke with your dad. He said that he was very sorry he will never know you…but he hopes you understand that he was trying to make a world in which you could live a happier life. They both were, they are still a part of you.”

Teddy gave a smile and even though he knew that in new-borns those were only reflective actions, he had to give some meaning to that. “How did they die?” Andromeda questioned.

“Remus died duelling Dolohov. Tonks...Tonks was defeated by Bellatrix. I’m so sorry.”

Andromeda shivered her eyes angry and haunted altogether. “What happened to them? What happened to my sisters?”

“Mrs. Malfoy helped me. I had to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest before, and we fought. He hit me with a spell, and Mrs. Malfoy confirmed I was dead, even though I wasn’t. She knew that. They escaped after. Dolohov was defeated by Professor Flitwick. And Lestrange…Mrs. Weasley killed her.”

“I had to thank Molly, then.” She sobbed. “For avenging my daughter. He will never know his mother because of a woman I once called sister. She never forgave me; she killed my daughter because of me.”

“Bellatrix Lestrange was a madwoman. Anything she did was her own doing.”

“I did pity her once. She went through so many things, so young.” She gave him a sardonically laugh. “But I was fooling myself, of course, she was vile – she always was – and I was too blind to see it for a long time.”

She was very lost in her own thoughts, so Harry took chance into analysing the child he had been entrusted with. Teddy had a longer face that probably came from Remus, and Tonks pixie-like nose and eyes. He had no idea how to care for a baby, but when Andromeda noticed that his hair was getting whiter, she snapped out her thoughts.

“He is getting sleepy. Give him to me, so I will put him to sleep. There is hot water in the kettle, make us some tea so we can discuss somethings. I suppose you will have to go after?”

“Yes, I’m sorry but there are –.”

“I completely understand, my dear. You must allow me some time for myself as well.”

“I can go.” He said, extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

“That would be unnecessary. Make us some tea, though.”

He did so, walking to the place she had pointed as the kitchen, warming two cups and the tea-pot with a spell before adding four tablespoons of black full leaves to the tea-pot and pouring water and waiting five-minutes before pouring it into the teacups. It was the exact time needed to Andromeda to appear in the kitchen.

“He is a very easy child to put to sleep. His mother was such a fussy baby. His hair gets white when he needs to sleep, and orange when he is hungry. To this day, he has managed the appropriate tone of brown for everytime he poops and pees. Poor dear, I hope he manages to control that one when he gets older. Dora never could.”

That was a bit more information about Tonks that he would have liked to know. Seeing his face, Andromeda bit back a smile, even a sad one, and added a bit of milk to her tea. 

“I don’t think you have ever taken care of a child, so he will live with me. That, I hope we both agree. There is also the fact you are a celebrity to take in consideration, I don’t want him exposed to that.”

“Trust me when I say even I don’t want to be exposed to that.” He groaned.

“But you will, hence that must be taken in consideration. He is your godson, though. It would be unfair to deprive him or you of any contact, so I only ask for discretion. What do you plan to do?”

She was a very straightforward woman, and even more down-to-earth. Harry would have loved to be honest: _I honestly have no idea, woman. I never thought I was going to survive all of this._ But he didn’t think it would give a positive second-impression, and in their first encounter he had thought she was the murderess of her daughter.

“I don’t think I will return to Hogwarts, it was once my home but now I don’t think there is a place for me there anymore. I will probably buy an apartment, beg Hermione to teach me, take my N.E.W.T.s and see where it takes me. And hunt Death Eaters, I suppose. The people I love won’t really be safe if those that wish to hurt them and me are still out.”

It was not that bad of an answer to tell the truth. He wished to do all of those things, in a way or another. His deeper wish was to have a family, but he thought of the woman he had been with not even an hour ago. As long as he kept her safe, he thought she would still be interested in him enough to give him a chance.

“Buy an apartment with an extra bedroom, then, and make sure is the city. When Teddy becomes a teenager and wish to run away to party, he won’t sleep into a strange place then.” They exchanged smiles. “Merlin knows how many times I worried if my daughter was sleeping under the bridge.”

“I can organize it. The funeral. You will be busy with Teddy.”

“And you with the aftermath. But I could use some help. I have distanced myself for such a long time, you probably know more people that knew them than I.”

“I know nothing about my parents’, I didn’t know where were they until December. I know it may sound selfish, but –.”

“I understand. I suppose you will be attending many these weeks. How many causalities –.”

“Fifty-six on our side, I believe. Forty-seven on theirs. I don’t know how many more will be retrieved.”

“A hundred and three bodies to be buried. And then and the lost souls imprisoned somewhere, dead or tortured. And many more that escaped and must be caught. It’s a terrible business, war.” She sat her cup into the table. “You should leave now, I suppose. I will send you an owl with the undertaker I hired to Ted’s funeral, and the other specifications used in a Black service.”

“Thank you. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Tonks.”

“Call me Andromeda, Harry. We are raising a child together.”

 

He had found Ron and Hermione in the kitchens, but there was no food involved in that scenery. Hermione was crouched in a circle of house-elves, muttering first aid spells around, while Ron patted the back a sobbing she-elf, while applying dittany to another’s wound.

“Pomfrey took those that needed emergency healing into the Hospital Wing, but both Hogwarts and St. Mungo’s are overflowed.” Hermione explained when she saw Harry’s confused glance. Harry nodded and knelt at her side, taking his own holly wand in hands. Merlin, it felt so right and whole again.

“What’s your name, miss?” He asked a young house-elf, whose face had many superficial a broken nose and a bulge in the shoulder joint. Her bright green eyes peered at him, surprised with the address.

“Deely is no missus, Mr. Harry Potter, but Deely’s name is Deely. Deely must thank Mr. Harry Potter for defeating Mr. Voldemort.” Harry snorted at the address, but nonetheless muttered an Episkey over her nose, that went back in place with a crack. Deely whined a bit.

“Sorry. But it’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Deely. Now, you have a dislocated shoulder, miss. I can but it back in place, I have done this several times in myself, so if you allow me I will do it manually. I don’t think Episkey works here. May I?”

“Yes, please, Mr. Harry Potter. It is hurting Deely.”

“Ok, so tell me, how did you get to this state, miss?”

“The cleaning elves were fighting a giant. Deely is a cleaning elf.” She said, proudly. He took her forearm, and with a simple gentle movement, rotated the bone. Deely didn’t seem to notice.

“That takes a lot of bravery, miss. We are done here but be careful moving this arm in the following weeks. Now you, lad. Let’s take a look at this face? Do you have any other injury?”

This one was even younger, and very eager. His face was covered by bleeding cuts, but he was unbothered by those. He uncovered his tea-towel to show a nasty cut in his back, not very deep but clearly painful. “Todd got his fighting a werewolf! Just like the great Harry Potter got his fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”

Ron gave him a shake of head, slightly amused by those elves who seemed unable to understand their own bravery. He was dealing with a fussy old she-elf who seemed more preoccupied with the health of the great Ronny Weasley than with her own torn ear. Harry dealt with Todd quickly, praising the elf’s courage against the creature. He was soon acquaintance with many elves: they had thought Snatchers, werewolves, giants, dementors, and their adversaries had left their marks on them.

They steadily went through the numbers of elves, reassuring words and praises offered by both sides. It was astonishing: how quickly cookers, cleaners and helpers became warriors when their home was threatened. They all spoke of the one who had lead them, who had made them believe capable of biting back: at the end it had not been Dobby, whose life was cut short so early by his sacrifice, but Kreacher, old and bitter, who had fought so many times with Dobby, yet whose defiance could only be inspired by him and Regulus. 

 When all the elves were healed, they left the kitchens, only a piece of cheese and bread in their hands, as they sat in the Hufflepuff common room, for the first time. Because it was the basement, it was pretty much whole, which couldn’t be said of the Ravenclaw tower and the Astronomy tower, according to Hermione.

“Professor McGonagall has called a team of stonemasons to take a look at the structure. The only thing holding it together are the levitation charms we applied. The wooden bridge was blown up, but a group of carpenters has been called for it and for the suspended bridge, which is half destroyed. I think Professor Flitwick has managed to rebuild the marble staircase and the house-points counters. There were many people working in the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall. The greenhouses are all destroyed. The metalsmiths and glassworkers should be able to take of it. The Quad is very lost, but that I am certain everyone is trying to rebuild quickly.”

“Professor McGonagall has called a Vivencimus for the Sorting Hat.” Ronald said off-handily. “I had no idea there was someone specialized in giving sentience to an objects, or repairing them, before today. We are out of school but the teachers won’t stop teaching, eh?”

“How are holding up, Ron?” Harry asked, because he had not seen his mate since the yesterday morning. They were all bundled against the all, sitting on the floor. Ron rested his head against Harry’s shoulder, because Hermione’s was too low for him.

“It will be ok. It doesn’t feel very real now, you know. So many people have died, and we don’t really have a path anymore. You won, mate, we won. But I don’t feel victorious. Not really.” Hermione took Ron’s hands into hers at that, gently caressing the skin over his wrist. “Perhaps, when I come back to a routine, it will feel more real. But I don’t know when that routine will start.”

“Ginny told us you were going to see Teddy and Andromeda.” The witch remembered. “How did it go?”

“It was very…bittersweet. Andromeda had heard over the radio, but she wasn’t really believing before my arrival. Teddy is a very beautiful baby, but so young. He will grow without any memories of his parents.”

“Memories can be shared though. He will be raised by a very loving family.” Hermione countered, her voice calm. She had laid her head against Ron’s arms, and she seemed very melancholic.

“What about your parents, Mione?”

“Mione and I spoke about it. I am going to Australia with her. We will stay for Fred’s ceremony and then we will leave. Will you be alright, mate?”

“I think so. I have Gin.”

“That’s great, Harry. You are true soulmates.” Hermione sighed.

“I don’t know about soulmates. But I do love that woman, and I don’t think there is another one for me.” He was unconsciously aware of the elbowing in the ribs that Hermione gave Ron at that moment.

“Yes, Harry. It’s truly great that you are banging my sister.” Ronald spoke up, robotically.

“You were the one that put the banging.”

“Oh please, like I don’t know.”

“Well, then it’s truly great that you are banging my best friend, Ron.” If the reddening to the tips of the ears wasn’t an indicator of Ron’s maidenly virtues, nothing else was. Hermione seemed a lot less ashamed of that commentary. Uh, what had she been doing with Viktor Krum at their fourth year?

“We are not banging. We just kissed for the first time.” Hermione defended. “It is very sweet.”

“You know, people usually don’t talk about their sex lives to their friends in front of their partners. One of you should really stop being friends with me so when can gossip like old ladies.”

“Well, you _are_ making love to Ron’s sister and I bet you want to advise about that so…sorry, Ronald, but Harry is all mine from now on.”

“Uh, sorry Mione, but when the options are someone that says _bang_ and other that says _making love_ , I take my advice from the first.”

“And you think a girl would prefer to be _banged_ or _made love to_?”

“You know we are talking about my sister, don’t you? The redhead firecracker?”

“Yes, Mione. It’s Gin: the intergalactic rebel princess, fight-or-die amazon, a sexy goddess after my own heart. I can assure you she wants to be fucked.” He said with a smirk, imaging those beautiful legs and dextrous hands, that woman that was made of dreams.

“I want to be what, dear?” A voice at the doorstep drawled and there was she, in all her glory and ripped jeans.

“Fucked, love. Fucked good.” He said, smirking at her approaching form. He stood up to his feet, and encircled his arms around her waist, his mouth near her ear. “I can think of a thousand ways to do just that.” He whispered huskily.

“A man after my own heart. The Han to my Leia.” She sniggered back, before glancing at her brother. “And that, dearest Ronny, is how you are supposed to approach Hermione when you feel horny. Now, can we stop talking about my brother’s unexciting sex life, I can be Leia Organa in your imagination – thanks for introducing me to it, Hermione – but Ron ain’t no Luke.”

“Hermione, when did you manage to introduce Star Wars to Gin?” Harry asked, barely capable of catching the reference, as he had only watched one of these, a rented VHS tape of the Return of the Jedi. The Dursleys weren’t great fans of sci-fi, and the time he had alone in the house was very narrow.

“I believe it was the summer before third year, before they went to Egypt.”

“I needed to relax after the chamber fiasco. Don’t be like that. We can watch together again.” Ginny winked at him. “Kingsley was looking for you. How was Teddy?”

“He is beautiful. A lot like Tonks for a new-born. How is your mother? And the rest of…” 

 “Bill finally convinced her to take a dreamless sleep draught. Dad is blaming himself, even though that is an absurd. George disappeared, and Charlie and Percy were looking for him. I was looking for them actually. Charlie and Percy are the worst of my brothers at comforting anyone that isn’t dragons or politicians – George is neither.”

She looked very tired. Harry couldn’t begin to fathom how confused were the feelings of the woman he loved, and seeing her like that was like a glass shard ripping his heard. When Ginny sagged on her feet his arms wrapped themselves around her form, bringing her close.                                                

“Forget it, Ginny.” Ron mumbled, annoyance in his tone and hopelessness in his eyes. “The only one capable of comforting George is Fred.”

Harry could feel the redhead stiffening at his side. “You think I don’t know that!?” She shouted, shoving the raven-haired wizard aside to glare at her brother. “But does that mean that we are supposed to give up on George, too?”

“Too?! _I_ didn’t give up on Fred!”

“ _I_ didn’t either! I was not saying you did!”

“So, what were you saying?”

“I don’t know!” Ginny cried out. “Maybe that I want my family whole?”

“I also want my family whole, but it’s too late for that!”

“Shut the fuck up, Ron! Why don’t you go and disappear once again? Go out there, follow your friends and continue to be the useless dead weight you are!” At that their expressions changed, Ginny’s into stricken regret and Ron’s into angry hurt. Hermione anticipated the change even before Harry could (he had guessed at the disappear, but Hermione had been ready at the fuck), and at the moment Ron stormed out in anger, she was ready to follow his footsteps.

Ginny stood, bouncing back into his embrace in a defeatist manner. “I don’t know I said that. Maybe a part of me still is waiting for my big brother to fight my battles or whatever – but it’s so wrong, oh Merlin, I know I am supposed to fight my own battles…and that Ron has done everything so we could be happier, but…”

“It’s my fault. I needed them, both of them, and I was selfish into believing I would be the only one.”

“Selfish and Harry Potter don’t go together.” She giggled. “Without the three of you, Voldemort would have won. Oh, what I have done?”

“Nothing that cannot be undone. You, me, Ron – we all have volatile tempers. His and mine combated while we were on the run. We said some pretty hurtful things to each other, even about you. But pardoning one another was easy. And he is far from useless, we both know that. He is a great fighter. Without him we would have lost at the Ministry, and we would never have found the diadem. He is better than me, and had not been for this scar the rest of the world would see it.”

“I know, I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do, Gin.” Harry smiled. “He is your brother, you don’t want to see him as anything more than the clueless boy your mother fought with, while praising her daughter. But he is not a boy anymore, and you are not a girl. The only reason you can continue to think that it’s because near Hermione, he and I are both useless.”

She gave him a small laugh. “You are right. When did you get so wise? You are supposed to self-conscious and shy.”

“I did actually die. Maybe it was post-mortem.”

“Yeah, right.” She said, but Harry didn’t fool himself that she believed him, but that was a conversation for another moment. “I should look for him. If you find Charlie and Percy…”

“They also lost a brother. They can comfort.”

“You are right. Again. Merlin, I sound so controlling. When did I become my mother?”

“Or Hermione.” He stiffed laughter.

“I guess at the end we all marry our parents or become them, eh? I always thought Ron had a bit of Oedipus complex.”

“Well, apparently, mom was fiery redhead goddess, so you must be right.”

“Flatterer. Anything else, o’ wise one?”

“Just be patient. You are all stressed, and that’s understandable. Ron has struggled with his self-esteem for a long time.”

“Pot, kettle.” She pointed out, rightly so. “Merlin, I want to fuck you so much when you go all wise on me, do it more.”

“We all need moral compasses. Hermione is Ron’s, Ron is mine, I can be your if you want.” He paused, analysing the context the phrase he used sounded when combined with Ginny’s dirty talk. “Merlin, that sounds like a prequel to foursome scene. That definitely wasn’t what I was going for.”

Ginny laughed once again. “Yeah, no thanks. But I get you, it would be great, unless that means I am Hermione’s because I have no idea how that could work…Still sounds like a foursome or it’s my brains that have turned into mashed mass?”

“How would I know, if my brain has evaporated?”

“I really should go, remember Kingsley.” She shouted, blowing a kiss into his direction and slipping past the common room. Harry was left alone in room filled by debris and students’ memories.

It was weird. He had been born alone, and would die alone. During his life, the moments he had truly alone were very brief, yet he had passed most of it without anyone to truly care about. Hogwarts had been where that fact had changed, and even though many had died and the school was half in shambles, he still had so much. If he had to die again for even a tiny portion of all that remained to him to continue, he would without hesitation. The life he had managed to build was very precious but death was not scary, it was expected. He couldn’t feel very human at that moment. Humans were animals, filled with hunger and survival instincts, emotional pain and discomfort. His wounds were numb and his survival was not detrimental. Vengeance seemed petty and meaningless. It was very peaceful.

He did find Kingsley a bit later. He had taken office in a tent outside the school, very reachable. The man was standing and walking around, reciting lines and stopping every ten seconds to rewrite something in a parchment.

“Harry, you are here.”

“Sir.”

“I was named Acting Minister of Magic. A pronouncement was made yesterday on the Potterwatch and the news was quickly spread. It seems that even though most store-owners are still quite scared to return to Diagon Alley, that cannot be said of reporters. I know it’s not fair to ask of you, but as a minister I must do what is right for the people, and only you actually understand the events that have led to Voldemort’s defeat.”

“I…”

“Allow me to finish, first. You are a great fighter, and an inspiring figure. The proposal I make it’s not in any way linked to me asking that you speak in public. Many Death Eaters have escaped, and we are in need of hands – ready hands. Your abilities were more proved yesterday, so I invite you, and Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, to join a special taskforce, with the sole propose of capturing these Death Eaters and taking them to justice. This proposal stands even if you reject a joint announcement of victory that will happen in one hour.”

Harry stood, speechless for a second. “I…I cannot speak for Ron and Mione, but I accept. Both. Yet there is a sensitive piece of magic that I don’t think that can be spoken of, sir.”

“If we are working together, call me Kingsley, Harry. And what magic is that?”

“Have you ever heard about Horcruxes?”


	2. Two

“I think I knew I was going to lose a sibling.” Ron spoke, his eyes as red as his hair as he threw pebbles into the Great Lake. “The odds were heavily against us: six brothers, one sister. Bloody hell, the Weasleys must have been what? A sixth of our so called army. In a game of chess you must know that you are going to lose a few pieces before the victory.”

“Ron.” Hermione soothed, reaching with her arms to push his head against her shoulder. Her eyes were not on him, though, but on Harry – scared by their friend’s behaviour.

“But I never thought it was going to be Fred. It never came to my mind that the twins could be parted. And that – that sucks, that sucks a lot. I’m losing two siblings after all. I don’t know how to help him.”

“Be there for him. There is nothing more that you can do.” She suggested, her hands toying with the edge of his sleeve. “You are all feeling a lot now, and that’s ok. We have time to heal now, just focus on that.”

“But we have to get your parents in Australia.”

“They live there now – they won’t leave on a spur of the moment. I have to do a bit of old investigation before going to Oceania, it won’t happen tomorrow. We will get to that.”

They were a nice picture, his friends huddled together at the gravel beach, blue sky reflexion on the water, bird cherry trees flowering white around them. Hermione’s hair was free from any taming charms, hiding almost her whole face in ebony. She had taken of her bucks and her toes were playing with the oval shaped pebble. She seemed to be strangely distracted. Ron was undoubtedly detached from his reality, his sky blue eyes fixed in a faraway view that none else could see.

It was the early Monday morning. May 4th. Every year before that students had been roaming around the corridors by that hour – hushing to get to classes, since the foundation of the school a thousand years ago. The Saturday had been hellish: gathering of corpses and healing of bodies, securing the walls of the school so the ruins would not fall upon their heads. The Sunday had been even worse: interviews and chaos, following the cold yet violent trail of runaway Death Eaters.  

They didn’t even have a place to go. The Burrow had been destroyed by Death Eaters two weeks ago. The Grangers had sold their house when they went to Australia and now a family of four lived in it, according Hermione. Harry had given Grimmauld Place to Kingsley, to serve as temporary headquarters to the Auror Office, as the Ministry was still out of orders because of the dangerous curses that had been placed inside of it. Bill was one of the members of the curse-breaker taskforce intrusted with cleansing it, under the leadership of Patricia Rakepick.

“Harry.” A voice spoke behind him.  

“Gin.” She looked just as sleep-deprived as the rest of them should. He got up quickly to encircle her with his arms, breathing her scent and her life-force, if that was possible. She had been holding it together – but there was nothing surprising about that, just admirable as she was. Molly was not well: to have all your children at the edge of death for such a long time was a burden that even Atlas couldn’t have carried, and their victory had made the older witch come undone.

Victory, huh. It didn’t feel like a victory. It felt quite empty.

“Kingsley was after you. They are burning the body at noon.” That was Voldemort’s body. It was customary in the wizarding culture, Harry had just found out, a waiting period before the burial ceremony. It took longer than the usual wake ceremony, hence the burial or cremation would only take after five days or so. The body should be kept under the tree of wizard or witch’s wand wood. Voldemort would not be given that privilege.

Harry nodded, and she reached for his hand, fingers entangling onto his as she slightly swayed in her feet. She was wearing a plum dress that made her look like a housewife of the 40s. She must have noticed his expression at such kind of attire, for her next comment was answer to his unspoken question. “Ugh. Fleur brought it from the cottage. At least they are clean and well, darker than most of the things she has. Shush. I may not have a leather inheritance left by my godfather but I am not the one smelling like naphthalene.”

He choked a laugh at that. “That’s why I love you. Cuz you smell of…fish. Smoked haddock to be more accurate. Someone had fish pie for breakfast – that’s just disgusting, Gin.”

“Shut up. I in instance love the fact that you can smell smoked haddock in me and instantly have the recipe for fish pie in your head. You are such a housewife, Harry. A housewife with a great arse.” Her daft fingers squeezed his butt. “Thanks for the cheer up.”

“Anytime. But you should rest, you are definitely tired.” He said, pushing her hair out of her shoulder and massaging the freckled skin in it. She seemed to melt under his touch.

“Aren’t we all? I still want to see him burn.” It was a mutter, yet a determined one. She was know moving her head against his chest, swinging it around in attempts to wake up;

“Go to the cottage, Gin. There are some hours to that and you did spend the night up.”

“I cannot sleep. Not now.” He understood that. Voldemort had plagued Ginny just as much as he had himself, if perhaps not more. She had always known of his existence, and by eleven she had just been as affected by it as he had been at his eleven years. Closure was something they both had sought in their teenage years and finally they could achieve it.

“Drink some coffee then. Or green tea. Hell, drink a Pepper Up Potion. But stop for a moment, Gin. And take Ron. He should be with family now, and if continues to be with us he will only worry more.”

“Very well. But I will have your balls, Harry Potter, if I am not there.”

Harry snickered. “You love them too much to inflict that upon yourself.”

They went away, a pair of flaming red walking to the border of the wards, so they could apparate. Then there were only Hermione and Harry. She was wearing Ron’s blue cardigan, and her eyes were flickering around the scenery, as if they could not focus on a target. “There is something bothering you. Aside the battle. Aside the losses. You are afraid.” He noticed.

“You, Harry Potter, are becoming more observant.” She gave him a weak laugh.

“It’s difficult to become less.” He grinned. “What’s the problem?”

“You are no Ron.” She answered just that, for a while. When he did not dignify an answer, she relented. “How can I consider Britain safe? Half of the Death Eaters in his army are loose and without guidance. At least when he was alive they were easier to predict.”

“You don’t know if you should bring your parents back.”

“I know I should. They are my family. I need them, I want them. I don’t know if…”

“It’s not safe for them. But it will never be, Hermione. I have made you target and with that your family has become one.” Her arms wrapped around him, she hugged him. “No Harry, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m afraid to find them. I am afraid to see them happier they ever were with a daughter that did not belong to their world. I’m afraid that I cannot bring _them_ back. This is how it feels? To be an orphan.”

“Maybe, for some. I was never afraid of that, because I had no memories of them. For me, the absence of parents will always be a deep urge to be loved. But we are loved, Hermione, and I have a family now. And you – you have parents. They will love you even if they don’t remember you – what’s there not to love? Besides, you are the brightest witch of our age, if anyone can recover their memories, that’s you.”

“And if I can’t, who will?”

“I guess we will then. You might be the brains of this trio, but Ron is obstinate and creative – he won’t stop imagining new solutions. And I am fool-herded enough to try all of them until I get you your happily after ever. You two put up with all my shit through this years – and you saved life more times than I can remember. Is the least I can do.”

“You did have a lot of shit.” Hermione said between snorts, laughing at his false-affronted noises. “But seriously, Harry – I am so proud of the man you’ve become. Thank you for being my friend – thank you for saving me of that troll.”

“C’mon. We should see where Professor McGonagall needs us.”

“It’s headmistress now, Harry.”

* * *

 

Ginny felt numb – and underneath that numbness lay a pool of rage enlighten by guilt. She had been given a room in the cottage to share with Ron, Hermione and Harry, but she had not slept on it once. Neither had Harry, she thought. It was just too suffocating, to stay put at that house.  

The shell cottage was a place of her childhood – her pigtails swinging in her sight as she tried to keep up with her brothers. Bill, Charlie and Percy would be at Hogwarts in this particular memory of hers, and it would be only the twins, Ron and herself. The twins and her would gang up on Ron when she was around six. Fred would come with the meanest jokes and George would goad her into performing them. She knew deep inside herself that they were mostly putting up with her, as if she was a minion of them.

One day, she had decided to get them back. All of them, for patronizing her. She had found a colony of chuzpurfles under a rock by the shore, so at night she got three of them and left one for each brother. Ron’s screams were one funniest things she had heard, but the twins jumping around was one the best scenes she saw. That was a memory she cherished as a victory for herself, but now she thought of it again she thought of the way Fred’s nose twitched when she put the pest on his hair.

He had been awake. For weeks after that they had tried to get her back, and she had delighted in it. But he had let her have her victory. And she could still she the proud grins he would try to hide in the following weeks, when she managed to make them taste their own poison.

“He was quick and vicious in action. But he was quick to forgive too.” Percy was speaking, setting a cup of tea in front of her. “Fred was the first to welcome me back in the family. Merlin, I was so terrified that time. But he just looked at me and began to joke – and I knew it was going to fine.”

“Fred has always felt too much.”  Charlie muttered, his eyes looking at her direction when she steeped down the staircase after tucking Ron into bed. The silent question of his after their welfare. “Ron is tired. Merlin, I’m tired. I don’t think any of us can process much in this state of mind. It doesn’t feel real, y’know? That is over.”

“You are not my little sister anymore, are you?” Her second oldest brother asked.

“You were away for quite some time, Charlie.” She answered, helping herself to a few freshly baked biscuits that were laid over the stove, in a tray. “Where are the others?”

“Dad and mom are still sleeping.” Charlie said. “Bill went to help to clean the Ministry.”

“George has gone back to his flat, to see what was still salvageable in it and in the shop.” Percy continued. “Fleur spend the night in the Bones Manor. She is trying to bring the foreign ministries into the recovery efforts.” Susan Bones had donated the country manor of her aunt to the ministry, and it was now being used as the headquarters of DIMC and the Wizengamot.

“Are you an idiot? Why did you think it would be a good idea to let George alone in their flat? She screeched back. “He is not well, you can’t possibly not see it.”

Percy glared at her. “None of us is well, Ginny, don’t patronise me because of your grief. George doesn’t own the sole right to mourn Fred, we all lost him. And he is going to stay at my apartment, I would never leave him alone in a time like this.”

She could only think of cruel answers to his declaration, therefore she chose to abstain from answer. Deep down herself she knew her brother deserved little of her anger. Circumstantial rage could sour mending blood ties quite easily and even if Percy was a prat, she still could use some more siblings. Ginny sighed as Charlie brought back a tea-set to kitchen cook top, the quietest of all her brothers raising a questioning eyebrow to her. She shook her head, because answering anything like that was hard.

“I’m going to see the caretaker. It seems the robes will be ready just in time for the ceremony.” He explained. Fred’s burial would take place on Thursday, in the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole.

“I have some files to read. The Minister has asked me to step in as prosecuting attorney in some cases of the already captured Death Eaters and their allies.” Percy said, shuffling some papers into files.

“Wow, I wish Kingsley asked that of me.” Ginny whistled. “I’d make them pay. Forget Bill you are my new favourite brother, Percy. Who do you got?”

“You were calling me an idiot a moment ago, I ain’t telling you anything.”

“You so are. Don’t hide it, brother, you are an show-off. You are dying to tell me. And for the first time ever you have a reason to show-off.”

“Ok. It’s Stan Shunpike –”

 “Huh, he’s mean, that’s right. And idiot enough to follow Voldemort but I don’t think he joined on his own free will.”

“– Alecto Carrow –”

“Yay, you are going to take that bitch down! Merlin, I hate that woman. I can be your witness for her vileness. I mean, the whole school can.”

“Oh I know that, that’s why is so hard. There is also Pius Thickness.”

“I can believe it! You are going after your former boss, that’s so awesome.”

“We all know he was imperioused.” Percy stated. “This is mostly a formality.”

“You are going to prosecute him. I do believe that the rule is guilty until proven innocent in our system.” Ginny pointed out.

“Yet the idea it’s that I am going to prosecute him, therefore that I ought to find guilt. A guilt that is absent in this case.”

She huffed, her brother could be extremely pedantic in any kind of argument. “I’m not going to get philosophical with you. You know the right think to do I’m sure you are going to do it. I should go as well. I have to watch the body of my enemy burn.” She declared in the very dramatic manner that only someone like her could master, making her way upstairs once again.

“Where are you going?” Charlie asked.

“To get dressed. It’s silly but the optics matter. We have won, but it doesn’t feel like it, nobody feels like a winner. But until we begin to tell ourselves that we’ll be ok, we won’t get pass this. So I will try to find a damned pair of robes in Fleur’s things that make me look like someone that is going to be fine and maybe I can fool myself into believing in it.”

To tell the truth Fleur’s collection was terrible – not that it was ugly, but it was certainly a lot of pastel colours and classical outfits. But she found a long wrap robe made of light grey velveteen that was bearable for times like these.

The ceremony would happen in the grounds of Hogwarts. It was slightly creepy, to cremate the body of a madman in a school that would soon enough welcome children once again, yet it was the safest procedure. To move the body to say, Little Hangleton, would evoke the danger of having possible traps around it or even Death Eaters lurking by seeking revenge. It was the safest way of disposing the body as well, because living it to be buried would certainly attract the attention of dark wizards wishing to perform necromantic rituals.

Very few people were invited. Those that had been working in the reconstruction of the school had been asked to clear out of the grounds for an hour. There were representatives of some governments, most of them Europeans as they had been the most threatened by his reign of terror. Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were present, and so were some others influential wizards and witches of the Wizengamot. The Minister oversaw all, quietly watching the burning flame to consume the body of someone that had caused so much horror upon a country.

It was strange, to be here with Harry. Hermione and Ron had also been offered a spot next to them, but they had refused as had many others. In a certain way, she understood. It was not an easy process to wash out the stain of his invisible mark. Yet she knew she needed it.

The scent was of barbecue – and for some reason that was the assurance she always needed. A body that burned like any other, be that cattle or men. The shadow that had taken most of her innocence at her eleven years was nothing but a man. A terrible man yet a man nonetheless. It could be terrifying that mankind could reach such a level of cruelty yet it also reassuring.

As long as man die, liberty shall live.

There was very little monstrous in him now that the flames had consumed most of his face. And wasn’t that a weird thought? Harry and herself were the youngest in there yet they were only ones that knew the true face of that man – the mask of a beautiful boy that had one day been crackled by the deconstruction of his soul.

It was poetic in a way, that he final resting place would be here. Harry had shared with her that this was the only place that Voldemort had ever considered home – a trait that Harry had shared with the man once. Now he knew that home didn’t need to be physical yet Voldemort had never known that. Aside seven years of his life, the dark lord had been a homeless wanderer the rest of his life.

_In another life, with another soul, I could have been him._ Harry had whispered to her. And wasn’t that a saddening thought? That such a good man, loyal and loving, selfless beyond compare could in another universe, in another world, be the body on fire? The soul destroyed roaming in the limbo for eternity.

Nobody pronounced a world, a eulogy or a condemnation. No curses or no blessings to be spoken to an empty tomb that would be laid at the said of his father’s grave, in a muggle cemetery.  And when it ended, all the authorities nodded at each other and walked down the hill, outside the wards so they could apparate.

Harry had then looked at her, a slight smile on his lips. “I have to show you something. Walk with me?”

They walked down the path that lead outside the wards, hand in hand in painful pace that only served to pick her curiosity. He seemed excited yet also hesitant, a mixture of feelings that she would usually take very well from anyone else yet she knew him – he wasn’t one to become hesitant. Harry second-guessing himself was unheard of and yet there he seemed.

“We are going to apparate.” He warned her, just as they stepped outside the wards.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see. I won’t tell to close your eyes because it’s going to be surprising anyway.”

“Huh.” She said at the same time she felt a tug at her stomach and twirl of the Earth – as if someone had turned a globe around and she was a small piece standing upon it.

The first thing she heard was the cry of the seagulls. The first thing she smelt was the scent of the salty water. The first thing she saw was the hills at horizon, fen climbing among rock. Then the second was the birds, there were a lot of those. “Where are we?”

“Pabbay, Outer Hebrides, Scotland.”

“It’s a very cold island.”

“Yet is very beautiful.” He completed. “And you love the sea and the plains.”

She stared at him. He was smiling, hesitantly. They were standing right at the shore, feet buried into pale sand. The water brushed her ankles, and she had to admit that she enjoyed the pace of it. Suddenly, she had an inkling what this was about. “You bought this.”

“From a one hundred and thirty two years old witch and her squib grandson. She moved out when she still had half a century younger and her magicless heir was born.”

“Moved out from where exactly?”

He just laughed, taking her hand and dragging her off the beach. As they walked past the sand she could see a shimmer in her view and suddenly she was facing a two-storey cottage made of dark stones. It was nice. Quite nice indeed. “They had some preservation charms in place so it’s in relative good shape.”

She nodded, because she didn’t really know what else to say. When she walked in, the most obvious thing to notice was that the opposite wall had been painted so that one could appreciate the view of a foggy wood that looked alive, a brown leather chesterfield sofa against it. Large windows occupied the sides of it, and bookcases took the entrance wall. A reddish Donegal carpet covered the battered hardwood floor. An spiral staircase took the left side, while an archway lead to the rest of floor.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s fascinating. I have to see the rest.” Harry laughed at that. And she skipped away from him. The whole house was kind of battered, yet kind of wonderful. The walls took shades of pale green, or bluish light grey and the furniture was mostly dark wood and textiles in calm colours with floral patterns expected from a grandma. The walls were nearly filled by paintings, photographs of strangers, bookcases and odd clocks, and Donegal carpets were certainly a theme. The windows were large and the ceiling was high, what gave the ambient much natural light. Candles and lampshades were displaced around in a random manner, and floor creaked just as the right places. It was kind of a mess, and she could that with them it would become even more, and that was just perfection.

On the first-floor there was a hall, a small toilet and a large open room that held in a corner a lovely kitchen with mismatched cabinets, a wood-burning stove and ugly china; a dining table to ten with chairs with high backs, and a large chesterfield sofa with four armchairs around it, facing a burning fireplace. The second floor had a suite, and another two guest rooms and a detached bathroom and in this several hydrangeas awaited in copper jars, placed around corners and tables.

“So,” She finally said, facing the large bed of the suite room. “Am I invited to test the bed?”

“You are invited to place all your clothing in the closet, if you wish.” He answered.

“Uh-huh.” She agreed, hugging his narrow hips to place her hands at his firm buttocks. He chuckled at that, resting his own entangled hands in the middle of her arse. “Just the clothing? And if I wish to replace the photographs of the strangers?”

“Please, help me do so.”

“Is there anybody else in this island?”

“Just us.”

“I hope you realize I will have to see mankind at least once every day, and I am still sixteen. I’m not actually allowed to apparate.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she suddenly remembered that he had never gotten the chance to take his own license. He interrupted her as soon as she opened her mouth. “I’m an Auror now, who is going to arrest me? And don’t worry, I will install the Floo just as soon as the Department of Transportation start to work again.”

“You know it’s just a fine to pay, right?” She inquired, with a snort.

“I have apparate in front of Kingsley at least a dozen times. I’m the Saviour of the Wizarding World. If I don’t have to take a test to become an Auror, I don’t have to take a test to apparate.” He answered with all the seriousness he could muster, which made little effect in lessening Ginny’s chuckles.

“I see. So, you are going to pop the question anytime soon?”

“I put hydrangeas. You said it was fascinating. The only question to ask is if you want to have sex with me?”

“Always, love.”


End file.
